


Out of this Alive

by patentpending



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gerard Keay Lives, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monster Jonathan Sims, OT3, Sharing a Bed, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patentpending/pseuds/patentpending
Summary: It’s nearly three in the morning, and Jon is starving without a statement.Martin and Gerry help.
Relationships: Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay, Martin Blackwood/Gerard Keay/Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 13
Kudos: 367





	Out of this Alive

**Author's Note:**

> everyone say thank you to @crazyfangirls-stuff on tumblr for enabling me to write my rarepair love
> 
> tws for starvation and minor body horror

It’s nearly three in the morning, and Jon is _hungry._

He’s sandwiched between his partners, Martin warm and soft to his right, and Gerry cool and firm to his left.

They’re sleeping peacefully – well, Martin is. Jon isn’t sure what Gerry does can qualify as sleeping, ever since he escaped that damn book and refused to go back or burn. But, regardless, they’re resting, serene, on either side of him, heedless as Jon’s stomach spasms.

He doesn’t need food. He’d eaten plenty earlier.

But, God, is he _starving._

There’s something deeper than hunger tugging at his stomach, wracking his body and pricking up a cold sweat on his brow. Jon closes his eyes – when had they flown open? – and throws an arm over them, digging his fingernails into his palm.

He’s _fine._

He doesn’t need to feed.

He doesn’t need a statement.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until a cool, papery hand wipes a tear away.

“Jon?” It’s Martin’s voice that breaks the silence, Gerry’s hand that gently pushes his arm away, and both of their faces, hovering above him, that appear when he opens his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he says, immediately. “I just-I’m, ah.” He swallows hard, scrubbing at his face, feeling his old scars, bumpy and rigid against his fingers. “Just hungry.”

“Oh, is that it?” Relief sweeps over Martin’s face, and he swings his legs out of bed, reaching for his robe. “Well, don’t you worry! I’ll have something scrambled up in no–”

“Not the hungry he’s talking about, Martin.”

Gerry’s hand finds Jon’s, fingers laced and thumb rubbing soothing circles.

“Oh.” Martin’s face crumples. “Right, well. I-”

He teeters between in and out of the bed, looking lost.

“Can I help?”

“I’ll be fine, just-” Jon cuts himself off the moment he sees Martin shrink in on himself.

That’s the thing about Martin, really. He needs something to _do,_ someone to take care of. He’s the caretaker, has been since a child, and has never once thought to rally against the unfairness of it all.

“Just get back here,” Jon says, softly. “Please.”

Task secured, some of the tension drops from Martin’s shoulders. He carefully navigates his bulk until he’s pressed against Jon’s side. Martin reaches out, and Jon willingly falls into him, letting Martin’s warmth press against his back and his arms wrap around Jon’s stomach, tightly enough that Jon can almost ignore the hunger pains.

Gerry still has both of Jon’s hands in his own, and he moves closer, pressing their foreheads together. In the low moonlight, Jon can see the silver ink of Gerry’s tattoos, the eyes shining against his dark skin.

“Did I ever tell you,” Gerry says quietly, “about what happened when I went to investigate a bog in Scotland?”

Something inside of Jon _roars,_ like someone placed a _feast_ before him, but Martin makes a small noise of discontent, and Jon snaps back into himself, shakes his head.

“You’ll run out of stories eventually,” he says, quietly.

Gerry laughs and tucks a lock of long, graying hair behind Jon’s ear. “You underestimate all the shit I’ve seen, love.”

“You know what I mean.”

Gerry swallows hard and looks down at himself – seemingly solid, but still so far from flesh and blood.

“You can’t keep giving yourself to me, Gerry,” Jon says.

“We need you to stick around,” Martin murmurs, one of his huge hands reaching out to cup Gerry’s face, brushing gently over the sweep of his cheek, “for both our sakes.”

“You can’t just waste away, Jon,” Gerry protests, voice growing hot, but Martin brushes a hand through his hair, and his anger drains away, replaced with by eyes that won’t meet either of theirs and a soft, bittersweet voice. “I can’t let you.”

“And I won’t, Gerry,” Jon promises, then winces as another stab of hunger slices through him. “Just… a bit of discomfort. Nothing for it.”

“Not today, then.” Gerry’s dark eyes are steady, stern. “But soon. When you can’t stand it anymore.”

“And when _you_ can’t stand it?” Jon snaps back. “When you, a living collection of memories, give away too many of those memories?”

“Then I’ll step in,” Martin says, and Gerry’s eyes shine with adoration even as a jolt of panic hits Jon.

“You can’t honestly-” he sputters, indignant. “I’ll haunt your dreams, Martin!”

But Martin laughs, like he knows a secret he isn’t keen on sharing, and kisses the back of Jon’s neck. “You’ve been doing that for years, love.”

“You-” Jon’s voice is far too flustered, and he snaps his jaw shut until he’s confident in his ability to speak again. “That’s unfair, Martin.”

Gerry grins at them both, leaning up to kiss Martin. “No, he’s got you there, Sims.”

“You two are insufferable.” Jon presses his face into the pillow.

“No we’re not,” they say, simultaneously.

Jon lets the smallest smile curl his lips. “No. Far from it.”

He turn back over and looks up at them – his loves, his partners, his Martin and Gerry.

“You know this isn’t sustainable,” he says, quietly. “You know I…”

He trails off, helpless, but Martin shrugs.

“We know,” he says.

“But we’ll figure it out,” Gerry finishes, squeezing Jon’s hands. “For you, we will.”

Jon’s never been good at expressing how he feels.

But something about the two of them make it so easy for him to say “I love you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, the inherent romanticism of underlying tragedy :)
> 
> Anyway, super glad to be dipping my toes into the TMA fandom! I binged the entire series a few weeks ago, and I'm really hoping to start writing more/longer pieces for y'all. This got a really positive reaction when I posted it to Tumblr, so I figured I'd throw it on here and see what happened.
> 
> drop a comment in the name of sharing a bed, and roast me if you see a typo, COWARDS
> 
> luv u <3


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